Welcome to the January edition of Tell Us About….a monthly challenge where a group of bloggers from around the world take a prompt and interpret it any way they like. Last month’s prompt was from Rosie, and was Christmas Carol. This month, Sally chose Snow.
I live somewhere that doesn’t really do snow. Not properly, anyway.
I live at the foot of Monchique, which is about as close as I get to a “mountain”, and in the past forty-odd years there have only been one or two occasions where a dusting of snow appeared right at the very top. And when I say snow, I mean the kind that barely commits.
The first time it happened, we did what everyone else did — jumped in the car and drove up to see it. People were making tiny snowmen on their car bonnets, delighted… and then watching them slowly melt on the way back down the mountain, completely baffled as to why that might be happening. Honestly, it was more funny than magical, but still oddly exciting. Snow feels like an event when you’re not used to it.
Because we grew up without it, we’ve always loved travelling to snow.
We rarely holiday any other time than winter, and I think that’s partly because we crave that contrast — the quiet, the white, the sense that the world has been wrapped in cotton wool.
One of our most memorable trips was Canada in 2011, where we did a driving holiday from Banff all the way to Vancouver and everywhere in between. The snow-covered mountains were honestly breathtaking — the kind of beauty that makes you go quiet without realising it. That trip lodged itself deep in my heart.
A few years later, we did another snowy Canadian adventure — Toronto to Mont Tremblant — where we rented a cabin surrounded by nothing but white. Snow angels in the garden, sledding down a little run, long walks where everything felt hushed and endless. It was magical… and also mildly terrifying.
I’ve always had a wild imagination. I’m that person wondering if the “ground” I’m walking on is actually thin ice over a river, or if a bear is about to wander out of the forest. I can’t help it. Snow seems to amplify my inner scaredy cat, but in a strange way, that makes it all feel more alive.
Then there was the Boston trip, driving up to Burlington and beyond, during one of the coldest winters they’d had in over a decade. White-outs on the highway, windscreens freezing solid — and a hire car that apparently came from Florida and hadn’t been equipped for actual winter. No de-icer. At all. We changed cars four times on that trip before finally getting one that could cope. It was frightening, exhausting… and unbelievably cold. The kind of cold that feels personal.
Closer to home, we spent New Year’s Eve in the Scottish Highlands, with snow settling quietly around us. That place is pure magic anyway, but with snow? Something else entirely. We’ve also visited the Alps in Switzerland after a few days in Zurich — another place that feels like it was made to be seen in white.
Our nearest snowy spots now are Serra da Estrela and Sierra Nevada. We’ve visited both. They’re lovely, and I’m grateful for them, but if I’m honest… they don’t quite compare to the places that stole my heart earlier on.
If I could return to anywhere snowy, it would be western Canada. Without question. That landscape pulled at something deep inside me. It even inspired me to write my first YA novel, Raven, which makes it feel even more special — like snow didn’t just give me memories, but creativity too.
Those trips were also shared with our dear friends James and Jane. We travelled together often — Canada, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, the Azores. But James passed away last year, and now those snowy memories carry an extra layer of tenderness. They’re frozen in time in the best possible way.
Maybe that’s why snow means so much to me. Because it was never everyday. It was always a journey, a moment, a chapter. And perhaps that’s exactly why it still feels magical.
Don’t forget to check out how my fellow Tell Us About co-hosts interpreted Snow
- Sally — Sally considers snowy weather in the long Minnesota winter season from a US southerner’s perspective. Within a World of My Own
- Marsha — Marsha doesn’t teach anymore, but she will always love a good snow day! Marsha In The Middle
- Rosie — Rosie brings us some books with snowy themes. Rosie Amber
- Debbie — Snow thoughts from a sunburnt country – the contrasts of being on opposite sides of the world to where snow is falling. Deb’s World
We would love for you to join us. So if you have a blog—or even just want to take part via Instagram, for example, please get in touch!
